My mom is fun and creative and a great conversationalist. Growing up, these things more than made up for her lack of cooking skills. She tried, but she was never able to get into anything that had to do with the kitchen (she'd be the first to tell you this, btw). She sewed dresses for me and my dolls, helped me figure out the lyrics to popular songs, and did tons of fun things to my hair. Her creativity just never extended to the kitchen. My sisters and I never complained about it, though. To us, it was a part of who she was. We'd eat the same four or five meals she was good at and we were healthy and energetic kids. Some weekend mornings my mom would turn to us and say, "How about cheesecake for breakfast? It has cheese and cheese is protein, so it must be okay." What kid would say no to that? Cheesecake for breakfast is a fond memory for me. Whenever I think about it, I feel how much I love my mom.
Today was the first day of school and I was neurotic about feeding my kids a balanced, healthy, tasty breakfast. Tonight, I'll be equally neurotic about dinner. There's so much pressure to be "the perfect mom" nowadays. A huge part of it is there's so much information out there and we have easy access to it. From the moment you conceive you're either helping, hurting, or doing nothing for your kid's cognitive development/future health/fill in the tons of blanks about all the potential damage we could do to our kids.
So this Saturday I'm giving my kids dessert for breakfast. I'm also making it a once-in-a-while thing. Because I don't want to just feed their brains and bodies. I want to feed their memories, too. And I won't make the dessert myself because I may be a good cook (according to my husband and kids), but I truly SUCK at baking (according to anyone who's ever tasted or even smelled anything I've tried to bake). I hope my kids remember my ill-attempts someday and smile over one of their mom's many imperfections. And I hope they feel love for me when they do.